


scars

by Tap (Sahoin)



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 11:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6517027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sahoin/pseuds/Tap
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Emil freaks out about his first real scar, Sigrun is actually a little helpful. (Fill for the fic exchange over at the SSSS forum, prompt at the end.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	scars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lazy8](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lazy8/gifts).



> omg it's been so long since i posted anything. hopefully nothing is horribly out of character; do feel free to point out glaring mistakes, thanks c:
> 
> also i am utterly horrible at titles. i have embraced this fact.

There’s blood smeared in a track down from his hairline, curving in a swoop across his cheekbone, sliding along his jawline to drip slow and steady off his chin. Emil can feel the wound throbbing in time to his too-quick heartbeat, the pain hot and bright on his skin, scalding like a brand.

There’s also ash in his hair, the smell of burnt troll on his clothes, ringing in his ears, and an ache along his side from the hard landing he took after Sigrun shoved him away from a grasping swing of the beast. None of those things seem anywhere near as important as the fact that his face is _ruined_ . This is worse than the face-cancer-that-wasn’t-actually-real. This is the absolute worst kind of place to get an injury, because there’s no covering it up, there’s no way to get around it. It’ll mar his face _forever_ , everyone he ever meets is going to be able to see he wasn’t fast enough to duck, will talk in hushed murmurs behind his back, they’ll all _—_

“That was _great_!” Sigrun’s too-loud voice is suddenly cutting through Emil’s stunned daze, and the captain’s strong hand claps him on the shoulder with such exuberant and unexpected force that he nearly topples over.

“Whoa-ho,” she says, steadying him quickly. “Careful, little viking! Clocked you in the head, eh? Lemme look.”

Sigrun suddenly has her gloved hands cupped around his jaw, leaning forward with a look of intense concentration; Emil tries to lean away instinctively, but her grip is too tight. She straightens back up after a moment and grins again, the expression edging a little too close to mania for comfort.

“You’ll live!” she proclaims. “That scar is gonna be _fantastic_ for a first. I’m almost jealous!”

“You _—_ ” Emil sputters. “Y-you _—_ what? _Jealous?_ My face! It got ripped off! I’m lucky I’m not blind!”

Sigrun looks unfazed, waving a hand in a careless gesture. “It’s nowhere near your eye, don’t worry. It’s, what, an inch away? And not _that_ big. Really, it’ll be a fabulous scar; it’ll show off your fierce warrior spirit without any permanent damage.”

The redhead claps him on the shoulder again, though this time she has the presence of mind to make it more of a hard pat and less of a whack. She glances at her dirty knife, then wipes it off on her coat before sheathing it, apparently unconcerned with giving Mikkel more cleaning work _—_  though to be fair, her clothing is already spattered in troll blood and in need of a good scrubbing as is. “Let’s go, blondie,” she says, turning away from the grotesquely malformed corpse lying at their feet to stride back towards camp, the light of the setting sun setting her bright hair aflame. Emil stares after her, a little disbelieving about the nonchalant attitude she treats his _mauling_ with, then trots after her.

“Sigrun!” he says as he catches up with her.

“Excited about the kill, eh?” she says, grinning at him again. “You lit that bastard up, _fwoom_! Brilliant!”

Okay, that _was_ a little brilliant, but totally not the point. He opens his mouth to protest, but Sigrun plows on.

“And everyone is going to see that you went out and fought trolls, little viking, because you'll have that.” Sigrun gestures to his face. “Either people stay in the safe zones doing boring things like farming, or they do _exciting_ things like killing trolls! That scar marks you as an exciting person, not a boring one!”

“But _—_ ”

“Shhh, no buts.” The captain put one of her gloved fingers against Emil’s lip, and he winces about the troll gore she's probably getting on him. She stops walking and turns to face him, setting her hands on his shoulders and leaning in too close again. “Even the greatest warriors have scars, Emil,” she tells him firmly. “They prove we can do the hardest things and survive. Be _proud_! You're a fighter, and this is just proof of it!”

“I...” Emil swallows, feeling a little cross-eyed from trying to focus on her face properly. He nods a little. “That does make sense.” He's not totally buying it, but he can admit she has a point.

“Good!” she crows, finally stepping away. Emil lets out a breath, trying not to sound too relieved about it. Sigrun almost looks like she's going to say something more, but simply grins and starts marching back to the cattank, Emil falling into step beside her.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Emil gets his first real scar, and he doesn't think this is a matter for congratulations. Unfortunately, his captain seems to have a rather different idea... I was thinking just a short humorous oneshot about culture clash between Emil and Sigrun, in which Emil freaks out a lot about something that's not actually all that visible.


End file.
